When You Talk
by mysteriousMice
Summary: A small fluffy one-shot in which Sherlock pressures John into telling him how he perceives the detective.


_Talk to me,_

_When you talk the rain stops falling_

-Feed Me

* * *

><p>"John?"<br>The detective has been lying on the sofa, deep in thought, for 20 minutes now. John looks up from the laptop, now choosing to focus on Sherlock. "Yes?"  
>"Talk to me." Sherlock has not turned to face John. His eyes remain shut, his hands resting on his chest.<br>"About what?"  
>"I don't care. Just start talking." John closes the laptop and moves himself to sit on the chair nearest the couch. For a few moments, he is silent, but he soon begins to talk Sherlock through his day. He talks about his troubles at the grocery store, the awful cabby on the way home, the pictures of kittens that somebody keeps sending to his email address. Sherlock doesn't say a word, but John knows that he is listening.<br>John loses his train of thought after a while. He sits back, brainstorming a new topic, when Sherlock rolls to face him.  
>"Talk about me." John blinks. It is a sudden request, and not one that he expects.<br>"Are you aware of your massive ego?" John smiles to himself. He knows that Sherlock didn't mean to come off as vain, but something about the way that he talks about himself makes him sound so conceited. Sherlock sends John a glance seeping with disapproval. He doesn't seem to understand that it was a joke. John clears his throat and starts speaking again.  
>"Well. Um. Where do I begin?"<br>"What do you like or dislike about me, John?" There is a moment of silence where John simply closes his eyes and thinks. He feels Sherlock's eyes on his face, but tries to ignore it. After a moment, he begins to speak.  
>"I like that you are never the same."<br>"Go deeper than that, please."  
>"Erm. Well, you're brilliant. Just the fact that you put up with me makes me feel... well, kind of special, I guess."<br>"And what do you dislike?" Sherlock's eyes have moved off of John, and the pressure is relieved for a moment. It does not take very long before John knows what to say.  
>"I hate that you are sometimes arrogant, and when you use too many nicotine patches, or when you go for days without eating or sleeping. I don't like that I can never fully understand your mind and that I sometimes feel incredibly stupid compared to you." Sherlock doesn't say a word after this statement, and John suddenly feels like he may have pushed the envelope too far.<br>"But I would never change any of that, even if I could. If you were any different, then you wouldn't be Sherlock. I like Sherlock." More silence floods the room, but before John can make another attempt to dispel it, he is cut off by the detective.  
>"I wouldn't want you in my head, anyways. You wouldn't like what you would see."<p>

A couple minutes have passed and Sherlock has turned to face the back of the sofa. John feels extremely awkward, but he remains calm. He decides that he needs to do something.  
>"Scoot over a little, will you?" John seats himself next to Sherlock on the couch. Sherlock glances down at John's lap and then back to his eyes.<br>"May I?" John knows what he wants.  
>"Go ahead." Sherlock rests his head in John's lap and closes his eyes. The awkwardness dissolves quickly. This is not an unusual practice for the two of them, as Sherlock can get exhausted after cases. He may try to hide it, but John knows when he needs a rest. He runs his hands through the detective's hair. It is soft, but that doesn't surprise him. Sherlock always had a habit of taking long showers, and their water bill was enough to prove that.<br>The two of them remain like this for a while before Sherlock finally drifts off to sleep. John doesn't know how much time has passed. He is extremely tired as well, but he doesn't want to wake the other man up.  
>It comforts John that Sherlock was finally able to get some rest. According to those who know him, it is a nearly impossible task. He remembers being thanked on occasion for getting Sherlock to eat.<br>Soon, John is unable to stay awake either. His eyelids grow heavy, and his chest rises and falls in a slow rhythm. He smiles down at the stubborn man sleeping on his lap. He leans down and places a small kiss on Sherlock's forehead, before he finally slips into the warm embrace of a dream.


End file.
